


Deliberate, Deteriorate, Demise

by Magnolia35



Series: the emperor has no clothes [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Kinda?, Magic Revealed, Magical Racism, Ministry of Magic (Harry Potter), Muggle Life, Muggle Technology, Muggle/Wizard Relations, Purebloods (Harry Potter), Squibs, The Ministry of Magic (Harry Potter) is Terrible, Wizarding World (Harry Potter), Wizarding World Revealed, and spite, hey can we acknowledge it’s fucked up to wipe memories, the real magic here is friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:07:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26789437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magnolia35/pseuds/Magnolia35
Summary: When it came down to it, no one had expected the demise of the magical world to be caused by a squib.Or,Who would’ve expected abandoning your wayward squib offspring would lead toconsequences.
Relationships: Original Female Character(s) & Original Female Character(s), Zacharias Smith & Original Female Character(s), Zacharias Smith/Original Female Character(s)
Series: the emperor has no clothes [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2008471
Comments: 2
Kudos: 39





	Deliberate, Deteriorate, Demise

A few years after the war ended, Zacharias Smith and his wife Helena were proud to announce they had brought into the world a healthy baby girl.

Well, healthy in the regular sense anyways.

You see, the Smiths are old, old purebloods. They, of course, have magical toys and the like for their heirs to play with, which is why it becomes an _issue_ when none of the toys respond to their daughter. They had responded perfectly well for their now-three year old son who was well on his way to becoming a boisterous young very much-magical man.

There’s many tests, of course, to test whether your child is a squib. The most thorough one (dubbed the Umbridge-Gallagher test) had to be administered at least a year after the age of seven, far after the magical core had hit its first growth spurt. This way the very much upstanding pureblood family has time to isolate any other children or simply do away with their wayward offspring before there’s even a mention of a Hogwarts letter.

So the Smiths on the day before their daughters eighth birthday administer the Umbridge-Gallagher test. The child marvels at the pretty lights and the parents faces become like stone when the test shows their daughter is as magically-null as a muggle.

“Well,” Zacharias Smith blusters, “I suppose we’ll just have to leave it at an orphanage.”

Helena, heavily pregnant, simply sighs and waves her hand at him before going off to lay down.

As mentioned, the Smiths are old purebloods, but even many of the more modern wizards likely wouldn’t know that orphanages hadn’t been a thing in Britain since around the 1980s.

This became rather apparent to the late Mr. Smith when he couldn’t actually find an orphanage to drop his unwanted offspring off at within the immediate radius. 

“Don’t contact us again,” said Zacharias to his daughter after he had gone through the ordeal of searching for an orphanage for _hours_ before just giving up and apparating to the closest thing that said ‘adoption’ in order to let his squib offspring go.

And so at the tender age of eight years old, Anaideia Smith is dropped off at a somewhat-popular local pet adoption centre with nothing but the clothes on her back while her brother goes to Hogwarts.

She realises she’s been disowned when she no longer can recall how to find her childhood home.

_(And so it begins.)_

When she was found approximately four hours later (her father had had the _foresight_ to leave her at precisely 2:38 in the morning) the volunteers were understandably horrified. They signed up to help little kittens and puppies, not small children who appear to dress and act like they came straight from Victorian times. Thankfully, Sarah Reed, forty-two years old and happily divorced, has a head on her and calls the police.

Thankfully none of the bleeding-heart volunteers try to do something crazy like adopt this random child they came across. Most of them were financially-unavailable uni students who could barely care for a houseplant let alone a child. Anaideia Smith is shunted into the British foster care system after it quickly becomes apparent finding her family is not an option.

She cannot really settle down in any particular place and instead focuses on her studies. The word _biotechnology_ catches her eye one day as she is flicking through a book on biology. She finds the concepts of DNA and all that comes with it absolutely fascinating and so her new passion is born. 

The best day of her life is when she gets the acceptance letter into the university course she’d so dearly hoped for. The second best is when she moves to her first apartment with her roommates and gets a succulent flung at her. The third is when they collectively adopt a beast of a cat and name it Cthulhu.

Ironically they get it from the same place where Anaideia was left all those years ago.

Anaideia is twenty-two years old when she meets her older brother. His name is Jupiter and he informs her that their mother has died and that the family will have nothing to do with her. 

She’s fine with that.

Except.

_Except._

He tells her not to come to the funeral because it will upset their father and that is what tips the balance. Jupiter is apologetic but she sees through his eyes that the apologies are hollow and fake and he’s simply here out of a curiosity for a sister he only just remembers.

She smiles with all teeth bared and asks politely where the funeral will be held, just for curiosity’s sake.

And Jupiter, dressed in fine robes and a pair of well-made glasses that looks very similar to the ones Harry Potter wears, looks at her and says, “The Manor, of course. She’s a Smith.”

_She’s a Smith._

“Of course,” she says, and he is on his way.

Maybe it’s time to make a stop at the Leaky Cauldron.

The year is far past 1998, you see and mobile phones are a thing.

Now of course, yes, the Ministry _knows_ of how muggle technology has advanced. What makes them decide it is not a threat is that it is _muggle_ technology. 

However after her seventeenth birthday, Hermione Granger hadn’t returned to the muggle world. Why would she? She had _magic_. She had no idea of how technology had advanced save for knowing what there was back in the 80s. And so if _someone_ were to record a video of a place like, say, Diagon Alley it would no longer be as easy as simply destroying the physical copy at the source.

A combination of all these factors made it so the wizarding world had no idea what was coming.

Anaideia will think back on this day and wonder. Maybe she’ll think what might’ve happened had she taken a different turn or simply had decided not to do what she did.

But none of that is running through her head as she clicks the upload button.

Anaideia was either very, very lucky or very, very unfortunate the video caught on as it did. Of course it could be played off as a hoax, which was exactly what the Ministry tried to do, save for the fact people started remembering.

They saw her video as they thumbed through the morning news and maybe they remembered that old video tape that their grandfather had recorded and gotten called crazy for, or their mother recording a day with her child in public only for something _strange_ to happen and the day be forgotten altogether, and so on and so forth.

Of course there were wizards and witches who tried to silence her. She was sure the Ministry would turn a blind eye to a good-for-nothing squib mysteriously disappearing, for all they preached of equality.

Thankfully she has three wonderfully muggle roommates who are all rather devilishly ingenious in their own ways.

That night they’re all near or in the living room, cat included. Kathryn is cooking what is possibly either a stew or pasta, Megan is thumbing through the channels on TV and Josie is working on her god-forsaken knitting creation of _something_. 

“So,” she says as a way of starting a conversation, “There might be a secret magical society after me for uploading evidence of them onto the internet.”

Josie drops her stitch. Kathryn drops her spoon. Megan simply sighs and turns the TV off. Cthulhu the cat doesn’t even twitch. 

Kathryn is the first to respond. _“What?”_

Anaideia rubs the back of her neck. “So, uh, I come from a family of uh, witches and wizards. Except- except I didn’t have magic, so they kicked me out.”

Kathryn barks out a laugh that is slightly crazed. “Alright. Magic people. Cool. Anything _else_ you want to tell us?”

Anaideia winced, “I’m sorry for not telling you earlier. It’s just-“

Kathryn sighed and threw up her hands, “It’s fine, I guess. Just- what did you do?”

Anaideia winced again, “Went to a very magical place and uploaded a video. I know it was stupid but it’s too late to take it back.”

Megan shrugged, “You know, I think I have a cousin who might be one of those magic people. She’s about thirteen now. Her mum mentioned that she was worried about her job outlook in the future because apparently her school doesn’t do grades ‘the normal way.’”

“So these wizards,” Josie starts, “They kicked you out? For not having magic?”

“Yeah.”

Kathryn squinted at her, “Say, this doesn’t have anything to do with that posh bloke that came ‘round a few months ago.”

“He was my brother. Jupiter. He’s three years older than me.”

Megan nodded sagely, “Looked like a ponce.”

And _that_ is what sends all of them careening into giggles until their stomachs hurt and it’s hard to breathe.

Anaideia Smith is twenty-three years old when she sees her father again.

He’s spitting mad, face flushed as he howls obscenities and lunges at her. She does not keep her cool and shrieks and knees him in the balls. She’s very much thankful Megan made her enrol in that self defence course. She catches sputters of _“hate you”_ and _“ruined.”_

She regrets nothing.

Anaideia Smith is twenty-three and four months when she meets Hermione Granger, head of the Ministry of Magic.

“You _must_ stop,” she pleads and for the brightest witch of her age she doesn’t seem to have many ideas for this situation.

Anaideia shrugs. “I can’t take it back. Neither can you.”

Hermione Granger draws herself up at that and sends a glare at Anaideia that has cowed many an official in her day. “You are no longer allowed in the magical world, Anaideia Smith.”

Anaideia shrugged again, “All that changes is that now it’s in words.”

And Hermione Granger, brightest witch of her age, doesn’t know what to say to that.

It is three weeks later when she runs into Harry Potter. His lightning-bolt scar is faded and his hair holds a few strands of grey. He holds an air of tiredness around him and in that moment all she feels is pity.

Then he opens his mouth.

“I have three kids, you know. Younger than you by a few years.”

Anaideia looks at him pointedly. 

He sighs, “Hermione told me to er, try and talk to you. About... stopping? Just leaving us be.” He runs his fingers through his hair. “‘Mione, for all she is smart, just doesn’t get some things. But, er, yeah.”

She looks at him. “Are you going to try and stop me?”

He shrugs, “Dunno. I wasn’t friends with your dad but he seemed... not great. Er, I guess I’m asking to maybe leave us alone?”

Anaideia leaned back in her chair at that. “Mr. Potter, I am sorry but I cannot take back what I have done. If others wish to pass on their messages through you, it should be known I lost all my hero-worship for the wizarding world the day I was told I was lesser for something I couldn’t help.

The man lets out a dry chuckle at that. “So they say. Good luck, Anaideia Smith.”

And so as all things do, life goes on. The world is _outraged_ at this secret magical society that has these powers. Her family and the wizarding world as a whole never contact her again but that doesn’t stop her watching the news and watching wixen after wixen arrested for wiping memories or robbery or god-forbid torture and murder from the few Death Eaters that escaped punishment. There’s interviews of people sobbing because they finally know the real cause of their spouse’s death and the wizarding world is held _accountable_.

After a while, Anaideia doesn’t really care. She moves on, finishes her degree in biotechnology. Moves onto her Masters. Stays in touch with her wonderful, amazing, awesome roommates. Anaideia knew in an abstract way that tensions were rising, the world was getting harder and probably more dangerous. But for now she gets to live in a bubble and has no desire to get herself involved.

This is why, years and years later when her child shows their first sparks of magic she sits down and cries for a long, long time.

**Author's Note:**

> so. uh. yeah. i don’t even know if anyone will actually read this but I got inspired (somewhere between staring at a blank page and moving 35,000 words worth of random stories onto one document) and wrote this!


End file.
